Chapter Text
His Master glanced at the table one last time.
“I’ll come back for you in a few minutes,” he said. “I’m serious, Obi-Wan, stay here.”
“I’m a child, Master, I haven’t gone deaf.”
Qui-Gon audibly inhaled, though more sarcastically, rolling his eyes before doing so.
“May the Force save me from that.”
Although that would’ve been better.
Indeed, it was highly likely that his Master would take no more than a few minutes to return; and, after those minutes, Queen Amidala would also know about this. Fantastic. He wasn’t nervous, of course; he just needed to make sure this wasn’t a hallucination, and then he’d be fine. Therefore, it was obvious that Obi-Wan wouldn’t leave, he’d just stand up and maybe look for a mirror nearby if the opportunity presented itself.
In fact, he needed to get up, wanted to get up now; but something held him back, something not precisely physical. He debated between two ideas: standing up and confirming what he already knew, or lying down, trying to sleep, and hoping this was a nightmare. He was fully prepared to choose the second one, but his limited reasoning settled on the less positive option.
Deciding would be the easy part, he knew that. He struggled with the gigantic cape he was entangled in, an arduous but not surprising struggle; he attempted to roll up the equally gigantic sleeves, which remained a futile effort; he prepared to jump to the floor he used to reach easily while sitting, nothing unusual, of course. Then, just as he did, his good luck returned. “Kriff,” Obi-Wan complained again, as vertigo decided to return at that moment, tripping over his own feet, gradually realizing the situation he was in.
If everything seemed big when he woke up, now it was immensely disturbing. He briefly looked at the unreachable cabinets he could easily reach not long ago; he glimpsed the windows he wouldn’t even attempt to peer through; he realized the table was almost his size. No wonder opening his eyes caused vertigo. It wasn’t surprising that he felt like vomiting, and even less surprising that he wanted to faint or die right then. This was totally and absolutely normal.
Yes… definitely not panic.
Obi-Wan slowly backed away, almost feeling his way to the seat. Suddenly, his stupid tunic—or rather, dress—caused him to fall; instead of getting up, he continued to back away, reaching the darkness under the table, something he shouldn’t be able to do so easily under other circumstances. That wasn’t so bad; it certainly wasn’t the end of the world.
He hugged his knees tightly; still, he trembled. The Force tried to calm him, the one who didn’t stop behaving weirdly. His heart beat fast. The floor was cold; he was cold. Suddenly, his eyes started to burn, tearing up as he thought about being under a table, on the verge of tears because he remembered how much he hated the creche. He quickly wiped his face, but he was still cold and trembling, and…
What had the Force done to him?
“Obi-Wan?”
Oh no.
“Are you here?” Anakin asked, probably from the entrance.
He retreated further; the last thing he needed was the child seeing him; the Chosen One who used to be thirteen years younger than him and who certainly wouldn’t be acting this way. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing. If he stayed silent, Anakin would leave. He buried his face in his knees. He’d be fine if he kept quiet.
“Obi-Wan?” Anakin said, closer this time.
Great.
He lifted his head slightly, mentally cursing because: why nothing could go right?
Anakin was crouched down, observing him intently; observing the small, trembling child he was, the one who avoided crying because… because…
“Are you okay?” Anakin asked.
Obi-Wan buried his face again. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice trembling and subdued.
That was the truth; he just needed a minute to process that the Force could do something like this. Why not turn him into a bird or something? At least birds could fly. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was about four standard years old, his lightsaber was probably twice his size, and he felt like he was losing his mind, and…
What?
He also felt something suddenly covering him.
This time, it wasn’t the Force; it was something more… physical. He lifted his head again, finding that his cape wrapped him. Then, without much searching, his gaze met Anakin’s, who was now also under the table, absentmindedly playing with the folds of his clothes.
“This ship is very cold. I understand why you’re trembling,” he said simply.
Obi-Wan observed him for a few seconds. He was waiting for some sign of pity in Anakin’s expression, maybe the sign of a lie or something that could explain the true reason why he was there. However, Anakin was just under the table, sitting in front of him, with a hint of the unusual calm he usually had amidst the chaos. He reflected that, as well as his brilliant Force signature.
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan decided to say, wiping tears from his face. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have seen this.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Anakin asked, looking confused.
Maybe because no one should have seen it?
“Because I can handle this on my own,” was a better response.
“But if I hadn’t seen you, you’d still be cold.”
Strangely, Anakin wasn’t showing any surprise, fear, or distress either. It seemed that he only cared about ensuring Obi-Wan wasn’t cold, and that sincere way of prioritizing things was unsettling.
“Why doesn’t this seem strange to you?” the question slipped out, almost unconsciously.
Then the other looked at him slightly amused.
“Well, it’s weird, but winning the podracing was even stranger.”
Obi-Wan smiled at that response, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes. Of course, that’s more unusual.
“If you put it that way, this is the least strange thing that has happened this week.”
“And perhaps the most normal thing I’ll see for the rest of my life.”
This time, he couldn’t help but chuckle. After all, Anakin was probably right. He couldn’t remember the last time he did something that didn’t involve the danger of imminent death or the Force Path. It was a good path, exhausting but the best. And, after all, Anakin would have also the best Master to guide him; Obi-Wan should be happy about that.
“Thank you, I mean it,” he finally said, covering himself more with the cape.
Anakin shrugged. “Anyone would have done it.”
“No, not just anyone.”
Because anyone else would have walked past or looked for someone to take care of the problem. However, even though Obi-Wan didn't want to believe it, the child was still there, just like his strong and luminous presence.
With that —and again—, he felt the warm waves of the Force arriving, another thing that was simply normal. It seemed to follow him in all his thoughts, sometimes less noticeable, but not what he was used to. It was unsettling, though not as bothersome as it might appear. He could feel it, just as he felt Anakin’s vivacity, and as he sensed his Master’s serenity.
Qui-Gon.
“I need to get out of here,” he said, removing the cape.
“Why?” Anakin asked, tilting his head slightly.
“It’s just… I don’t want Qui-Gon to see me here.”
“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want him to know?”
Well, don’t you want to know the purpose of existence too?
“It’s just not right, okay?”
“But…”
The sound of footsteps interrupted them.
Kriff, Obi-Wan cursed again and crawled out from under the table. He needed to learn to control himself.